Personal Report
by ShayaSar
Summary: A Torchwood member is reflecting on team mates. This is crack, people. JackxIanto implied.


Personal report  
Torchwood employee CF06

I really don't know what I have done to deserve this. My life started so wonderful. I had a happy childhood, grew up with my brothers and sisters and we were pampered by my parents, uncles, and aunts. They looked after us, made sure we were properly dressed, and polished. They paid attention to every detail and were proud when they could release us into the world.

It was a sunny day and we were all positively gleaming in the sunlight, when we drove away from our home.

I was a little bit sad, though, when I had to leave and therefore lost touch with my family, but the prospect of an exciting new life helped me over my early depression.

Then he came along.

I think it was love at first sight for him. I was still so young. I wasn't really sure what I felt. But I was determined to make him happy and proud of me, so I did my best to please him in every way I could. At first, though, he sent me away to be upgraded.

I was really scared. All these people and they started to rip me apart and change pieces of my body. Okay, the added shiny new lights, a lot of technology, and after they were finished with me, I felt incredibly strong, ready to face the world, and any dangers it would throw at me. But inside I was still very unsure of myself. Was I really the right one for this job? Could I do it? Or did Jack just pick me for my good looks?

I know he really likes how I look. There are often times he will just stare at me and gently caress my skin, rub over bulges and trace his fingers along the sharp lines of my body. And I caught him sighing contently when he was inside me, enjoying the feel of my soft interiors.

Well, that was at the beginning, before he started riding me so damn hard the best buffers couldn't absorb the brutal thrusts I received when he hauled me around.

----

Now, I have served Jack and Torchwood for many years. I think it's time for me to speak up and tell you all about the different riding styles of my fellow team mates. They all treat me as some kind of inanimate metal frame, but I'm so much more. I'm the one that brings them to the alien sightings and places of recent rift activity. I'm the one that has to carry all the gooey aliens in my back. I'm the one that gets all the bruises and scratches when again someone couldn't calculate their next move correctly.

And do I complain? Do I ever complain? No. I keep on working, despite all the bickering I hear and despite all I have to suffer. But let me put this in order.

Jack.

He was the one who recruited me. He fell in love with me, worshipped me and yet he is the worst. Every time he climbs behind my wheel, I howl. Literally, I howl, because he just plunges his foot on the accelerator and expects me to jump forward in light speed. Yet every time I try to comply with his wishes. My circuits buzz and my gear wheels turn as fast as they can, while I'm pumping more gasoline in a second than Jack could drink water in an hour. Most of the time I leave a part of me behind, that little bit of rubber that bonds with the tar when my tyres take that extra spin on the ground before the momentum kicks in and I manage to combine all my power and shoot forward.

I shake in fear when Jack drives carelessly through the streets, not caring for traffic lights or other vehicles. I shout out warnings in the hope the others of my kind can stop in time to avoid a collision. I'm not in control here; I can only obey the force that is Jack.

Owen.

On second thought, Owen is worse than Jack. At least Jack had never crashed me. For some reason Jack had always managed to rip my wheel around at the last second to keep me from running head first into a wall or one of my kind. Mind you, Owen never did crash me that way either, but a few of my biggest bumps were his fault. I don't know if there is something wrong with his eyes, but every time he drives me around a corner, he misses the street and sends me over the kerb, forcing me half way over the sidewalk, while my tyres and shock absorbers scream in pain.

At least he doesn't force me to do a cavalier start like Jack always does.

But he always leaves his junk in the passenger footwell. If it wasn't for Ianto, I would be a garbage truck by now.

Ianto.

Oh, Ianto. I must admit he is my favourite. His driving style is very elegant, calm, and he has never made a scratch to my shiny lacquer. I always feel safe with him. He isn't one who drives extremely fast but always perfectly balanced to the task at hand. He arrives always in time. And he cleans me every week inside out. He has even put an air freshener into the passenger's room giving me a lovely smell. He is very gently when he polishes me, only using a fluffy cloth and carefully rubbing over my bonnet.

I remember that one time he got really furious at Jack when he found an antenna attached with sticky duct tape to my mirror. Jack was acting very carefully around me for weeks! He even started to help Ianto with cleaning me. Oh, how I had missed Jack's gentle touches. But if I'm being honest, I prefer Ianto looking after me now. He just knows the best products for wax protection and leather polish. And like I said, he is a very good driver, never revved up my engine and is always very carefully minding the other traffic.

Tosh.

Well, Tosh is my second favourite I think. She is also very careful when she drives and she always talks to me. Tells me what a good car I am and she actually pets my dashboard when we reach a destination. She is not one of the fastest drivers, but that's okay. It's a nice change.

She adores all the technology I have been equipped with and there is nothing better than to have her happily typing away while sitting on my backseat. I enjoy every minute of it, because she tends to talk even more with me, when we manage to solve yet another mystery together. Well, and of course, I love her perfume, it's even better than the air freshener Ianto bought for me.

Oh, last but not least, I always have a ball when Owen wants to use my services next and bangs his knees on the wheel, because Tosh needs to pull the seat forward to reach the accelerator.

Gwen.

Oh, what shall I tell you about her. I said earlier that Jack and Owen are the worst, but to be honest they are a lot of fun too. They know how to push my engine and every once in a while I like to be pushed. And I adore the gentleness when Ianto is the one who is forced to push me to my limits.

I like to be driven, not hobbled. I don't know what Gwen is doing with that damn foot of hers, but I believe she is tap dancing on my accelerator. Because just when I'm pumping the next load of gasoline into the engine, I'm drawing a blank at the next round and start coughing. Then she plunges her foot down again and forces me to jump forward a bit while spitting a load of fuel out. And it's like this all the way. Spit, jump, and cough. Spit, jump, and cough. It's exhausting and every fibre of my body feels the strain. I'm so glad that Ianto had stepped in and talked to Jack about Gwen's incapability to drive an automatic like me. Since then she is using her own car most of the time.

But every once in a while, she comes to my garage and pets my bonnet. Then she would climb behind the wheel, start my engine and the tap dancing begins again. She claims she is practicing, so she can drive me properly if there's an emergency. But I'm not sure about that. It's only the times after Jack and Ianto were out with me that she does this. I caught her sniffing and looking curiously at the backseat once. I'm sure she is looking for clues of what Jack and Ianto are doing when it's only the three of us. But I can tell you, most of the time we're working. Most of the time.

Although there are other times. Times when the air inside my passenger room suddenly gets hot and steamy, Jack and Ianto are scrambling over each other on the backseat, embraced in passion. It's times like this, I'm loving my job. Watching them losing themselves in each other and groaning in pleasure makes me proud that they trust me enough to let me be witness to their love. And it's only fair if I help them to get rid of any evidence of these sessions. If Ianto forgets to leave the window open, which allowedly rarely happens, I make sure to lower it when they are gone.

So all in all, I can't say that life at Torchwood is a bad thing. I really like the adventure and the thrill of danger. I'm happy to have a purpose and actually help in saving the world. So bring on the next invasion.

Sincerely,

the Torchwood SUV


End file.
